


and from it, she fled

by sleep_pronoia (nap_princess)



Series: SamQuinn [2]
Category: Glee
Genre: Angst, Bad Ending, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2019-06-04 18:40:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15153257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nap_princess/pseuds/sleep_pronoia
Summary: "Oel ngati kameie.” Sam tells Quinn. “It means ‘I see you’ in Na’vi,” / She doesn’t see him– SamQuinn, Sam-centric





	and from it, she fled

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Wait A Minute!](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/394652) by Willow Smith. 



** and from it, she fled **

* * *

 And I cried at the curb when you first said " _Oel ngati kameie_ "

– **Willow Smith** , _Wait A Minute!_

* * *

" _Lor menari_." Sam Evans says, the first ever compliment he’s told Quinn, the first ever proper conversation between them and a sink and red slushie stains.

Quinn blinks her pretty eyes at him, there is no need for an exchange in conversation to tell Sam that he’s made a fool out of himself and that she’s more than a little confused. Her face expresses a clear, confused _What?_ without needing actual words.

"It means –” Sam says, trying to not turn pink and trying to keep a goofy grin on his face, “It means you have pretty eyes,"

“Oh.” Quinn says and her voice drops along with her hazel eyes as if she’s embarrassed to look at him.

At this rate, Sam thinks, maybe even the bathroom’s mouldy floors are more interesting than him and – _God damn it, you blew it, Sam, you blew it!_ Sam scolds himself in his head.

“It’s Na’vi. You know, the Avatar language?” Sam continues talking and he doesn’t know why because he’s already making an idiot out of himself but he _can’t_ stop. Just like how he can’t stop grinning like a dork. _Gosh_ , why was his reflex to awkward situations so shitty? Why is he the kind of person to smile when the situation’s not even funny.

Sam prays that Quinn turns the conversation around and, thankfully, she does.

* * *

"That one's Venus, planet of love." Sam says, pointing to a red planet hung at the astronomy room, and there's a playfulness in his warm voice as he says this.

"Actually, that's Mars, planet of war." Quinn corrects him and she can't help but think she sounds icy as she says this, so much like her old self when she used to do so many nasty things.

“Oh.” He utters, shoulders dropping as his grip around his guitar tightens.

“Yeah …” Quinn replies, voice also fading away as she follows Sam into the room, just shy a few steps, power pose and all. Maybe if she had paid more attention, Quinn would have known how opposite she was compared to Sam.

But, hey, all's fair in love and war.

.

.

.

She steps away from him and him guitar and his everything.

"No," Quinn says, barely a whisper.

Quinn’s shaking so hard that Sam thinks she’s about to cry and he doesn’t want her to cry. He didn’t mean to make her cry. "I – Quinn –”

"No." And now her voice is louder. "I know this feeling. I know what _this_ is and I can't do it, Sam. I don't need this."

She feels pressure building up behind her eyes and she trips over her own words like an idiot and _she's not an idiot_ because she's getting straight-As and she's _supposed_ to be  perfect.

"It's like I need you." She says and there are tears in her hazel eyes as she stares into his blue ones. "And I  _don't_. **I don't need you.** "

* * *

His impressions, bad jokes and Na'vi don't seem to have an impact on Quinn but Sam tries. Tries his _damn_ best. Because Sam’s not a quitter. He’s just blinded by love (and, maybe, a little stupid for thinking he could do this, that he could make things work).

He sings to her in the hallway and everyone stares and it's the bad kind of attention that no one wants, _ever_. So bad that maybe he should have taken it as a sign to stop pursuing her and maybe she should have turned around and fled the scene or, at least, let the ground swallow her whole just so she wouldn’t have to see him anymore, ever again.

* * *

{ Wait a minute! I think I left my conscience on your front door step! }

* * *

When you’re into someone, _really_ into someone, you tend to leave everything about yourself behind. You just … you just lose yourself in them and this dumb game of love. And that’s the position Sam finds himself in as he’s bending down on one knee, under a cheap constellation set up above their blonde heads.

"I ... I wanna marry you. Some day." Sam swallows. He says these words with the same nervousness as any real life person proposing. 

If Quinn says ‘yes’ then it’ll be Sam and Quinn forever, the perfect couple, like Ken and Barbie. And if she says ‘no’ … well …

“Is that a ‘no’?” Sam asks as she snaps the velvet box shut in his hand.

She looks at him in the eyes and responses, “It’s a ‘maybe’,”

* * *

With her hands on her hips and her body positioned in a power stance, Quinn pretends that maybe,  _just maybe_ , she has a chance or direction for once in her life of _where_ she's going and _who_ she's going to love.

“I’m wearing your promise ring.” Quinn says, flashing it against the ugly grey of William McKinley High’s lockers.

Sam’s face explodes with emotion, a large smile dominating his features. He’s so handsome and so ridiculously pure. He asks her, almost vibrating with joy, “How did you get that?”

“Oh, I broke into your locker. I’m quite handy with a nail file.” She says airily, as if she’s used to breaking things (as if she’s used to breaking hearts).

* * *

 

{ Hold on, wait a minute, feel my heart's intention! }

* * *

They're watching _Avatar_ (the blue one, not the God awful one by M. Night Shyamalan), cuddled up against Quinn’s bed with the only light source being Quinn’s laptop.

They’re in the middle of the fight scene, the evil humans against the gentle Na’vi people when Sam suddenly turns his head and says to Quinn, " _Oel ngati kameie_ "

Quinn gives Sam the same expression months ago, her lovely eyes blinking in confusion. It sounds familiar, the Na’vi people have probably already said it once or twice during the movie but, to be honest, Quinn hadn’t been paying all that much attention and Sci-Fi isn’t her thing so …

“Pardon?” She asks Sam.

“It means ‘I see you’,” Sam replies, smiling like an idiot.

“Oh.” Came her response, the same as the first time he had explained what ‘lor menari’ meant.

Then the side of his face makes an awkward half-grin expression and he starts explaining himself, “But it’s not – I didn’t mean it as in ‘I see you’ _physically._ It’s … _I see you_ , you know?” Sam licks his lips and is now explaining while waving his hands, attempting to tell Quinn the significance of it all. “What I’m trying to say is, I see … into you.”

“You see … into me?” She echoes, turning away from her laptop screen.

“Yeah,” Sam nods and Quinn guesses now they’re both just ignoring the movie. “It’s a deeper kind ‘seeing’. I’m trying to say that I get you, I understand you. I’m ‘seeing’ into the whole of you and connecting with you.”

“Hmm,” She hums, turning back to the screen. The movie’s almost over and she doesn’t get any of it.

He asks, eyebrows knitted in a concerning way, “You get it, don’t you? You understand me?”

“Sure, Sam.” Quinn says. “Sure.” – She doesn’t see him.

* * *

{ Some things don't work, some things are bound to be,  
Some things, they hurt and they tear apart me,  
But I broke my word, and you were bound to see }

* * *

“I’m trying to be the right one for you, Quinn. _I’m trying._ What do you want from me?” Sam wants to yell but doesn’t. He can’t help but feel that he’s coming up short compared to her with his dyslexia and average grades and his bad shoulder and those stupid bullies throwing slushies at his face and –

His dad just _lost_ his job. Can’t the world just cut him some slack for once?

But Quinn just frowns, shaking her lovely head and making her blonde tresses tumble down her slender shoulders. “If you were the right one, you wouldn’t _need to try_.”

Wha –

What the super fuck? Now that’s some bullshit right there.

.

.

.

"We've only known each other for six weeks. S – Stand up." She remembers demanding, pleading.

"I wanna marry you." He had once said, with stars and planets and entire cosmos reflecting in his blue, blue eyes.

And she wonders if he _still_ means it after she had cheated on him with the boy that not only stole his girl but also the boy who stole his position as quarterback.

.

.

.

They broke up.

They. broke. up. and his dyslexia is making things difficult. _Much_ difficult.

But right now, writing this apology letter to Quinn is more important than anything. Because chivalry isn’t dead and he’s trying to be _fucking_ romantic via poems and fancy words, and  this is everything to him.

He’s sorry, okay? **He’s sorry.** He’s _so_ sorry that he made Quinn kiss Finn and he’s _so_ sorry for accusing her of cheating on him and he’s _so_ sorry that he wasn’t able to keep her as his girlfriend.

He did this to himself. Self-sabotage. Self … demise? Self …

Gah! He doesn’t know. He just wants her back and he wants to be able to hold her hand again and kiss her pretty face and tell her Avatar stuff and – And, fuck! That’s not how you’re supposed to spell ‘gorgeious’, is it?

* * *

{ You left your diary at my house and I read those pages,  
Do you really love me, baby? }

* * *

Sometimes, _most times_ , Sam really hates that he’s an open book. Absolutely _hates it_ because people already get what he means but then he opens his big, stupid mouth and go on a long, winded explanation like it’s needed.

They get it – _he_ gets it – he’s readable, okay? He’s not the secretive kind of guy (which Sam is not-so-secretly kind of glad that he’s not a superhero because he’s pretty sure he won’t _ever_ be able to keep his identity a, well, _secret._ He would have probably blown it like _Tony Stark_ when the billionaire had told the press about his alter super ego: _Ironman_. Spoiler alert, by the way and –), but, anyway ( _anyway_ ), Sam knows he just can’t keep _anything_ to himself.

So when he falls at the short end of the stick and end up a homeless teen, the first person he tells is Quinn because they go to the same church and because of that saying that “You can’t keep _anything_ hush-hush in the house of God” or something along those lines (He thinks? He’s never read the Bible. His dyslexia just makes it hard and weird).

“ _Oh_ , Sam.” Quinn says, sitting down on the only bed the Evans family can afford. “I’m sorry about everything.”

A wave of emotion hits Sam like a truck and he wished she hadn’t said it like _that_. Because he feels like crying now but he can’t because his parents are out and his siblings are watching cartoons and he _has_ to be strong. He. has. to.

“It’s … _fine_.” Sam finally forces out, sitting on the same bed, hands locked together as if he’s strangling life itself for being a giant douche. He almost wants to open his mouth and says something cliché like … like ‘life isn’t fair’ but then a conversation starts in his head and he wonders where he’s pulled this ridiculous conversation out off (probably his ass).

_‘Life isn’t fair.’_

_‘No, it is.’_

_‘How?’_

The same voice in his head tells him, _‘Look at Quinn. Do you think her life is easier than yours? She’s terribly paranoid and she’s got this irrational fear of getting fat. Last year, she got pregnant and dumped and kicked out of her house. Do you think life’s fair to anyone?’_

_‘What?’_

_‘Life **is** fair because it’s unfair to everyone.’_

_‘Oh.’_

“Quinn,” Sam says, shaking his head, making himself face her.

“Yes, Sam?”

“Thank you.” He says, genuinely smiling, he feels like it’s the first time he’s done that in a long time. “Thank you for being here.”

.

.

.

But then something happens (because, _of course_ , something has to happen). He doesn’t know how but he ends up losing Quinn again when the new school year starts and Quinn shows up with pink hair, cigarettes, black clothes and a hideous tattoo.

* * *

"Hi, Sam."

"What do you want, Quinn?" Sam asks as he slams his locker shut and turns to face her.

She blinks her pretty blonde lashes at him and makes a face, "Can't I say 'hi’?”

"You can." He tells her, and her face melts and softens. But then he adds another word into the conversation because he knows her, knows her _well_ (a little too well if you asked him), "But you don’t _just_ say 'hi' so I’ll ask you again. What do you want from me, Quinn?"

Quinn takes a deep breath, looks at her ballerina flats then back up at his handsome face, "I want you, Sam."

 _What?_ – And he must have said it out loud because she takes a step closer and ignores the teenagers around them.

She tells him in a clear voice, "I want to start a family with you."

_A family?_

He must be dreaming. And if not, his jaw must have fallen to the floor because he can't believe that Lucy Quinn Fabray is saying these exact words to him.

If she had said this months ago (a year ago, to be exact), Sam Evans would have been over the moon. Because she wants  **him**  and only him. Because she wants a future with him. Because he’s perfect in her eyes and they just get each other.

But that's then and _this is now_ and Quinn's words are practically empty, she changes her mind too much, too fast.

“No, you don’t.” Sam says and it hurts despite the fact that he’s the one saying it. “You don’t want me. So tell me what you really want.”

“Sam –”

“I don’t have time for this, Quinn. Just tell me what you want.”

And he swears she’s _this_ close to crying and, just like last year, he _never ever_ means to make her cry.

So Sam signs and rephrases himself. “ _Please._ Just tell me the truth.”

.

.

.

In the end, it turned out to be about Beth. Just Beth and Puck and Shelby; somebody else, a whole lot of somebodies, people. And  _not_  him.

 **Never**  him.

(It almost hurts as much as the black eye Dave gave him back in Junior year. _Almost_ )

* * *

"Turn that off," Quinn found herself almost snapping as she tries hard not to look at the TV screen and the movie playing. She’s babysitting the Evans kids again because no one can bounce back that fast after facing homelessness, life can **never** be _that_ easy (she knows this fact because she knows her tattoo still haunts her to this day).

"What's wrong with _Kubo and the Two Strings_?" Stacey Evans asks as her brother, Stevie, is already fast asleep on the couch.

"Nothing’s wrong with _Kubo_." Quinn says and spins around before realizing there’s nowhere for her to run to. She feels like a caged bird. Gripping onto the bottom of her dress, she tells Stacey, "I just hate _Matthew McConaughey._ "

“Well, Sammy likes _Matthew McConaughey._ ” Stacey answers and Quinn almost wants to yell and tell the young girl that those are two separate things. But then Stacey says more things and it feels like a stab in the heart, “And if Sammy likes _Matthew McConaughey_ then you must like him too because I thought you liked Sammy, Quinn. Don’t you like Sammy?”

Quinn’s mouth drops and she ends up just glaring at the eight year old until she finally finds herself talking. “ _Stacey Evans_.”

And, immediately, Stacey knows she’s in big trouble. And just like her older brother, she starts word vomiting because she thinks that’s how you’re supposed to fix things – with words. “Don’t you –”

“ _Stacey_ , it’s time for bed.”

“I thought you liked my brother.”

And Quinn doesn’t say a word back.

.

.

.

Sam can’t help but feel mad as he delivers the fifth pizza for the night. He keeps thinking back to the past, back to 2010, back when life was so simple.

Back to when his biggest concerns were trivial thing, things that sort of mattered, like telling Quinn if there was food stuck in her teeth or eye gunk or things like making her proud to say to words "That's my boyfriend" when he showed up walking down the hall like he could ever measure up to any of her expectations (not that he could have, but it was nice thinking that he had a shot at it).

Back to when his family had the money and had the luxury of sending him to that all boys' boarding school and could afford those guitar lessons. But now he's just stuck in Lima, Ohio, scared out of his mind and without a dollar to his name and no clue to his future.

(God, he wants to be a billionaire. Why couldn’t he be like _Tony Stark?)_

So now he's mad and thinking maybe he shouldn't have spent that money on that _damn_ promise ring that never amounted to anything but crushed dreams and a broken heart.

* * *

"Sometimes, I wish they never got together." Someone says with a chin rested in an open palm. A former Glee Club member, somewhat of a friend. These words are said to a circle of people from the same background that faced the same horrors of high school. "Do you ever think that ... if they never dated then they would never have hurt each other like this?"

Following the blank stare towards a blonde duo, everyone swallows and echoes, "Yeah,"

* * *

**end**

**Author's Note:**

>  _Oel ngati kameie_ you reading this fic!
> 
> Also, I wrote this because **zalavi0309** from fanfic asked but idk if I can pull anything else out of my ass like this.
> 
> – 3 July 2018


End file.
